


An Eye Opener

by guineamania



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Enjolras' romantic awakening, M/M, Savate, Stuff happens, fit!Grantaire, pinning!jolras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-01-28
Packaged: 2018-03-09 12:07:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3249083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guineamania/pseuds/guineamania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Les Mis Holiday Exchange for Arriviste who asked for: <br/>Canon-era: I would adore any Enjolras/Grantaire interactions with their spiky dynamic and repartee, from gen-level to full-on angry sex up against a wall. I'm also pretty into canon Grantaire as a dancer and a boxer and probably a master of savate.<br/>I have this image in my head of Enjolras watching Grantaire fight bare-knuckled and in his shirtsleeves and surprisingly brutal and graceful at the same time and feeling this powerful, unfamiliar sensation of animal desire, but, um. You don't need to go there!<br/>And so I complied! Enjoy</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Eye Opener

**Author's Note:**

  * For [arriviste](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arriviste/gifts).



“Jolras,” Courfeyrac whinned, tugging on Enjolras’ sleeve like a petulant toddler. He had been at this for the last quarter of an hour and showed no signs of stopping until he got what he wanted. “I’ve already said no Courfeyrac so please stop,” Enjolras exclaimed, rubbing a tired hand over his face. They had to get these pamphlets ready to be sent to the printer and he had a speech to write that was no cooperating; this last thing he needs was Courfeyrac’s temper tantrums. “But aren’t you bored looking at the same walls every day,” he exclaimed, hand finally letting go of Enjolras’ sleeve to fly everywhere for dramatic effect. In one single flawless motion, without looking up from his scribblings, Enjolras pointed to the flag of the republic on the wall and then resumed his focus. “Okay maybe not that wall, no one can ever get bored of that wall, but all the others,” Courfeyrac moaned again, resuming his infuriating whining.  
“Okay I will go out with you tonight as long as you leave me alone now so I may complete this,” Enjolras sighed and rolled his eyes at Courfeyrac’s excited squeal. As soon as the childlike man had left the room, Enjolras realised he didn’t even know what he had signed himself up for. 

That night Courfeyrac appeared at Enjolras’ door, practically levitating with contained energy. “Come on! Come on we will be late!” Courfeyrac laughed, pulling Enjolras out of the door as soon as he was dressed for the outside weather.   
“Where are actually going?” Enjolras replied, dragging his heels as Courfeyrac pulled him down the bustling streets.   
“There’s this really good inn where Grantaire boxes and practices Savate every so often,” Courfeyrac explained in his usual racing manner.   
“Savate?” Enjolras asked, more intrigued now he was almost up to speed with the night’s activities.  
“A traditional French martial art which uses the hands and feet as weapons combining elements of western boxing with graceful kicking techniques,” Courfeyrac reeled off as if he was reading a definition from somewhere.   
“And Grantaire does this?” Enjolras questioned once again as they both skidded to a stop outside of an honestly shady establishment. Courfeyrac nodded, causing Enjolras’ heart to thump erratically in his chest. Images bombarded him of Grantaire panting, his chest bare and rippling with movement. Sweat was falling down his brown tanned skin. Enjolras blinked rapidly and shook his head to rid himself of these traitorous images. This fantasies had been happening more and more often and Enjolras couldn’t stop their arrival. He couldn’t be distracted by such petty thoughts at an important time like this. 

Courfeyrac barged in the door first and began to pull Enjolras along behind him once again. They quickly found the rest of their group and a foul tasting drink was pressed into his hand almost instantly by someone or other, probably Bahorel. “The fun is about to commence,” Courfeyrac hissed in his ear as they pushed through the gathered crowds. Bet were being screamed out and money waved over their heads to bookkeepers. Enjolras allowed himself to be dragged along this time, not wanting to be separated from his guide through these unfamiliar waters. Courfeyrac found them a place on the edge of a hastily drawn out ring. A few minutes later, a giant of a man lumbered into the ring, barefoot but tape wrapped around his feet. “First up we have Hans Deik verses the house favourite Nicolas Grantaire!” the bartender screamed over the ruckus from where she was stood on the bar. “Street Savate so everything goes, first one to be knocked out is the loser!” she bellowed once again and a clash of glasses signalled the start. 

Enjolras was overwhelmed. Grantaire’s movement and elegance was supreme and Enjolras couldn’t look away. It was like a deadly dance, Enjolras was entranced and it was shameful. Red hot flush spread across his skin sending him shivering in delight. “Impressive isn’t it,” Courfeyrac laughed in his ear and Enjolras could only nod meekly. It only took about five minutes of Grantaire’s dancing and kicks for his opponent to be limp on the floor despite being about three times Grantaire’s size. The drunkard was carried out of the arena by happy spectators and thrown a shirt somewhere in the midst, thank god. Enjolras’ heart just wouldn’t stop thumping away and his mind was coming up with all these images of Grantaire doing some rather unsavoury things to him up against a wall. It was already driving him insane. If this could possibly be love then Enjolras had no idea how people coped. He did the only thing he could think of, run. 

Enjolras found himself sat outside the inn alone in the cold. He didn’t know what to do. Courfeyrac would probably kill him if he left the party now but yet the atmosphere and crowd was so stifling. “I thought I saw you in there,” Grantaire chuckled, sitting against the wall next to him.  
“Courfeyrac dragged me along,” Enjolras blurted out, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the source of his affections sat within touching distance of him.   
“Because of course the leader of the revolution cannot be seen undertaking in such unsavoury merriment,” Grantaire scoffed but still didn’t move away.  
“Your fighting wasn’t unsavoury,” Enjolras whispered before instantly regretting it.   
“Oh really, I am honoured to gain your mild acceptance,” Grantaire joked once again. Couldn’t that man take anything seriously, for once in his life? “It has taken me all this time to get even your eye fair Apollo.”

Enjolras kissed him, it wasn’t a conscious action it just happened but Enjolras couldn’t stop. What did surprise him was the fact that the drunkard wasn’t repulsed. In fact he pushed back, pressing his toned body up against Enjolras’ spindly form. They just kept going. The world was blanked out as they became each other’s world. Unfortunately the human necessity for air broke off their tender moment, leaving each participant beaming from ear to ear and gasping. “Shall we do that again?” Grantaire asked and Enjolras nodded. So they did.


End file.
